"You'll get a broken neck this time, Tom," cried one of his acquaintances cheerfully.
"I didn't know Prince was broken in to the saddle yet, Tom," said another.
"No more he isn't," replied Tom, "but he's broken enough for me. Stand clear, bhoys."
And then the black charger reared and bucked and curvetted wildly, while its rider kicked his feet out of the stirrups and kept his seat like a Centaur. Few of the horses present had been much used before, and they now became restive also, and pranced dangerously. Phil and I had a bad five minutes. We did not know the nature or temper of our mounts; and besides, neither of us cared to place much reliance on our stirrup leathers, they looked frayed and wofully fragile.
"If they go with yez, bhoys," advised Tom, "give 'em their heads. They'll get tired soon enough. Thar's lots o' room in this country."
"Oh, Lord!" groaned Phil, "what a comfortable prospect we have before us! My back is about broken with this kicking brute already."
The vast assembly was now becoming impatient. The stated time, 3.30, had been reached, and as yet there was no sign of the Reverend Father who had been the cause of the extraordinary meeting. Then just as threats and curses were being muttered, a pale-faced young man in clerical garb made his appearance on the balcony, and a deathlike stillness reigned in an instant. In a few words the priest explained his strange position, but he was rudely interrupted many times.
"It's gettin' late. Where did the nugget come from?" the rougher spirits roared. The young man hesitated for a moment.
"The nugget was found on the Lake Gwinne track," he said, "at a depth of three feet——"
With a long, indescribable roar the multitude scattered, and the speaker's concluding words were drowned in the din. "Hold on!" cried Tom, as Phil and I swung round to follow the main rush, "the d—— d idiots didn't wait to hear how far it was from Lake Gwinne." There was scarcely a dozen of us left; the breaking-up had been as the melting of summer snows.